


Hello, Harry

by Authormitchel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, Hogwarts, M/M, Pensieve, Professor Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-11 00:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12923103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authormitchel/pseuds/Authormitchel
Summary: Harry falls into Snape's pensieve, again.





	Hello, Harry

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really appreciate you all. And I love reading your fics as well. You can follow me on Tumblr at thinkmyhappythoughts and on Twitter at Mitchel_chelsea. And Jo, if you're reading this, I have an idea.

Harry sat by his bedside for weeks, waiting for the potion’s master turned spy turned hero to wake up. When he did, the first thing he said was for Harry to get out. Harry had flustered and tried to tell the man it was okay, but the more he tried to placate the man, the more upset he became. The healers had rushed in and urged Harry out of the room though he hadn’t done anything. He had saved Snape’s life, but he wasn’t looking for a thank you or an apology, he just wanted to make sure that Snape was all right. 

Then Harry accepted McGonagall’s offer to teach at Hogwarts, and though he tried to speak to a still recovering Snape over and over again, Snape steadfastly refused him. So, was it any wonder Harry took a look when he got the chance?

He stumbled head first into the pensieve, but he didn’t land in an old memory, but one he was very familiar with. 

Snape waking up and yelling at Harry to get out of his hospital room, but this time when Memory Harry, shock faced and confused, left the room, the scene continued. After the healer’s took care of Snape and ran their diagnostics then left the room, Snape just laid there. The last healer seemed to change their mind about leaving, then said, “He’s been here you know, every day since the battle.”

“And….” The man’s voice faltered from lack of use. “How long…has that been, Ms. Granger.”

“Three months,” replied Hermione. “Enough time for the venom to run it’s course out of your body, me to become a healer in training and to not be Ms. Granger any longer.”

Snape almost smiled. 

“Mrs. Weasley, I presume.” 

“Granger-Weasley, actually.”

Hermione smiled. “It’s nice to have you back, Professor, maybe now we can get Harry out into the sunlight.” 

Snape had an odd look on his face, but it faded as Hermione ran her eyes over him one more time. She left the room in her usual hurried steps, but Harry stayed with Snape. The man shook his head like he was dismissing a particularly stubborn thought. 

“Potter,” the man said, so quiet Harry almost missed it. Then, Harry was somewhere else. 

 

Snape was sitting at the high table, dinner was being served in the Great Hall. It took him too long to find himself, not among the students at the Gryffindor table, but at the staff table. Professor McGonagall stood and moved to the podium. 

“This year we are pleased to welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Every welcome, Professor Potter.” 

It was no more than any other Professor had ever received, and Harry remembered being grateful for that. He watched as he sat back down, and grabbed his napkin, rubbing it in between his thumb and forefinger. It was a nervous habit he had developed when he was very young, but only now did when he was more anxious than normal. No one had seemed to notice, that is until he looked at Snape who was watching Memory Harry discreetly out of the corner of his eye. 

After dinner, Harry left the staff table quite quickly. He had lesson plans to go over for the millionth time. He knew that everything had to be perfect and was intent on making it so. But of course, this time, he stayed with Snape. 

“Hagrid,” Snape called, his clipped voice stopping the other figure as he made to leave. 

“Yes, Professor,” said Hagrid, happily. 

Hagrid had always been not fond but certainly respectful of Snape, but after the war, Hagrid had seemed to switch a lot of his admiration from Dumbledore to Snape, much to Snape’s chagrin. Harry kept waiting for the   
day when Snape snapped on his kind friend, sending Hagrid to him in tears, but it hadn’t happened yet. 

“Ready for the school year?” inquired Snape. 

“Quite, sir, got a nice batch of first years,” said Hagrid. 

Snape nodded. He started to walk towards the doors of the Great Hall, Hagrid followed him.

“How as your summer?” asked Snape. 

“Spen’ a lot of time travelin’ Professor. Missed Hogwarts though.” 

“It is easy to miss,” Snape conceded. “Did you happen to attend the wedding of the newest, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” 

Hagrid smiled brilliantly. 

“Hermione was beautiful,” said Hagrid. “Only stayed for a bit though, hardly got to speak to Harry at all. Didn’t even know he was coming back before I got his letter a week ago.” 

“Ah,” said Snape, frowning slightly at the mention of Harry’s name. “I assume you celebrated with the newly minted Professor Potter. Rosmerta’s or the Hog’s Head?” 

Hagrid’s face went from confused to dawning understanding in lightning speed. 

“No, no, we didn’ Professor Snape.” 

“Indeed?” Snape asked and Harry could hear the accusation in his voice. 

“Ah,” said Hagrid. “You don’ think Harry thinks poorly of me, do ya?” 

Snape gave him a blank look. 

“You were busy. I’m sure Potter understands.”

“Yes, but….but…”

“Well,” said Snape, succinctly. “Good night, Hagrid.” Then Snape left him. 

Harry remembered that night. He had been revising his lesson plans for the hundredth time when Hagrid had knocked on his door with some fresh treacle tart and some butterbeer. Harry had declined the butterbear, but   
had accepted Hagrid’s company and of course the tarts. 

That visit had calmed Harry’s nerves better than even a perfect lesson plan and that next day at breakfast he left his napkin on his lap. 

 

***

The zoom off a flyer sped past him, he couldn’t feel the wind, but he saw as it ruffled Snape’s hair. They were at a Quidditch match, Hufflepuff verses Ravenclaw. Minerva had asked him to referee while Madam Hooch was out of   
town visiting her sick mother. Harry had agreed in a heartbeat. Since the start of term he had been too busy to fly and it felt good to be back on a broom. Harry was quite impressed. Hufflepuff had quite the team this year. Harry followed Teddy with his eyes, so proud of his Godson.

Now, he watched as Memory Harry looked off into the distance for just a moment then bracing himself he watched the Bludger hit him in the side of the head. Harry knew it was impossible, but it felt like he was feeling it all over again. The bones crushing in his face, his stomach lurching with the fall from his broom, Harry never knew what happened after that. He had woken up in the hospital sore, but healed. 

Now, though, he saw it. 

Snape’s eyes dark and fearful as he stood and cast a cushioning charm so he wouldn’t forever be implanted in the pitch. He watched as the man left the teacher’s stand and conjured a stretcher, levitating him to Madam Pomfrey. 

He awoke for a moment before he got to the hospital room, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tried to focus on Snape. 

“It’s all right, Mr. Potter,” he heard Snape whisper. “We’re almost there,”

His tone was so soft, Harry wondered if it had come out of his mouth at all. Snape opened the doors to the infirmary.

“Madam, your assistance is needed,” Snape called. 

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office in a flurry. 

“What fool hardy high flying…Oh!” she said, looking down at him on the stretcher. She sighed. “And the Potter luck strikes again, does it?”

“So it would seem,” said Snape. “Instead of actually watching the game he was supposed to be referring, Mr. Potter decided it would be a good idea to stare mindlessly off into the distance.” 

“Ah,” Madam Pomfrey said, as she ran her wand over him. Snape made a move to leave before Madam Pomfrey said. “Wait a just moment will you Severus, I need to fetch something.”

Snape nodded, sitting down on the chair next to Memory Harry’s bed. He watched Snape reach a hand out, and brush some of Memory Harry’s hair out of his face. 

“Foolish Gryffindor,” the man whispered. “You’ll be the death of me yet.”

Then before he could say more, Madam Pomfrey walked back into the room. 

“Thank you, Severus,” she said distractedly as Snape moved his hand from Harry’s brow unnoticed. 

 

***

Harry moved the piece forward, determined to win the game. He had taken to playing chess with Snape sometime in his second year of teaching. Tired of getting trounced by Ron, Harry had taken up the game seriously. Then, seeing Snape and Professor Vector playing in the Professor’s lounge one night Harry had stopped to watch. Vector was about to concede a knight when Harry stepped in. 

“No assistance, Potter!” Snape had cried. 

“Sorry,” he had said sheepishly as Vector took out one of Snape’s pieces. 

“Ha,” cheered Professor Vector. Then looking at her watch. “Maybe you should take over, Harry. I can’t win against Severus on a normal day, much less this late in the evening.” 

Harry looked to Snape as if he were seeking permission when Snape nodded. 

“Alright then, Potter, if you think you can take me.” 

Memory Harry sat down and began playing. Harry watched this reflection of himself, pleased note that he did seem to be a better player, though he did have to work on his poker face. He looked far too lost when he   
wasn’t sure what move to make next. But Snape didn’t seem to notice. Harry hadn’t paid any attention at the time, but now he could see the way Snape was watching him, not with a sneer or grimace, but almost amused, happy? 

They had finished that game and two others with hardly any conversation before Snape had called it a night with a “Nice game, Potter.”

Snape had trounced him soundly, but Harry had left with a smile, feeling like maybe finally they were moving beyond their past animosity and truly becoming colleagues. The memory faded with Snape watching Harry walk out the door, a look of matching contentment on his face. 

 

It had almost become a weird sort of game. 

Every day Harry would walk past Professor Snape to fetch one of Madam Pomfrey’s delicious offerings from the break room and everyday he would say, “Hello, Professor,” But Snape would never say it back. He merely   
inclined his head in acknowledgment before continuing on his way. Harry just assumed Snape thought he was silly or that he was saying, “Hello” just to annoy him, but after a while Harry was trying to be nice. He wanted them to get along, and if he could only get Snape to return his greeting maybe he could feel like he was closer to actually getting there. 

Harry didn’t think he was far off. Sometimes he caught Snape looking at him at dinner, an odd look on his face, and though they never played so intensely again, Snape no longer objected if Harry gave out pointers to his opponents. When Flitwick and Harry won one night, and jumped from their seats in joy, he actually saw Snape smile before the man had quickly covered it up. So, why wouldn’t the man tell him hello. He watched himself walk down the hall. Memory him had a mouthful of treacle tart and Snape had simply rolled his eyes. Then Memory Harry was walking down the hall again,, and Harry wondered what was so remarkable about this that Snape had gone through the trouble off putting it in his pensieve. 

He watched himself go once again, but instead of following his memory self, he was forced to follow Snape. He saw the man’s lips move, and first thought that maybe Snape was trying to jinx him, but no jinx or hex hit him. Then, it happened again, a different day, a different treat, but the same greeting, “Hello, Professor.”

Though this time, he ignored Memory him completely and watched Snape. As soon as Memory Harry was out of sight and earshot Snape muttered something once again. Again and again Harry watched as his daily greeting was ignored and Snape muttered something just out of Harry’s understanding until one day, Snape’s words clicked. 

He was saying, “Hello, Harry.”

Harry was struck. 

But the next few memories were the same and as he watched Snape’s mouth, it was crystal clear. 

“Hello, Harry.” 

Snape had been replying all along, just where Harry couldn’t hear him. Memory after memory flashed by, “Hello, Professor,” and Snape’s reply just grew louder and louder, but still no louder than a whisper and only when he was out of sight and earshot. But Harry didn’t know that. 

After awhile he felt hurt that this man still couldn’t see past his hatred for his father or their shared past animosity, and after a particularly hard day, Harry simply walked by and said nothing at all. Memory Harry turned his head as he walked by Professor Snape, determined to let the man have his way. He had felt an odd sense of satisfaction at the time, but later at dinner after noticing Snape’s absence, it all felt wrong. 

“He’s catching up some work for the infirmary,” said Madam Pomfrey. “That man’s better than he lets on.” Harry had felt foolish. Here he was trying to make amends, but at not even a rebuff, he was acting like a child. 

He had turned his head that day, but not now. Snape watched as Harry had approached and kept watching as Harry passed and didn’t bother to look up.   
Snape ducked behind a wall, breathing so heavily Harry thought he had somehow hurt himself. His long, dark hair shadowed his face, but his expression looked pained. 

“Just say it, you, stubborn old fool, just say it,” he scolded himself, hands clenched into fists at his side. “Just say it. Just once….. be normal….Just say it once…” Tears welled up in the man’s eyes. 

“Hi” the man mouthed without sound, “Hi”, and Harry wanted to melt into the floor. 

He had no clue. 

Somewhere in the fog of the memory he heard his name being called. 

At first, Harry thought he was being pulled into another memory before his head was pulled out of the pensieve. Snape released him as soon as he was out, like touching Harry scorched his skin. 

“What?” Snape stuttered. “What have you done?” Snape’s face burned with embarrassment, and what had floated at the edge of Harry’s consciousness finally came into view. 

“They’re all me.”

Snape flicked the door open with his wand. 

“Out,” Snape’s voice was deadly quiet, but Harry flinched at his tone regardless. 

Harry’s feet wouldn’t move. 

“Why?” Harry asked stunned. 

“Out,” Snape repeated, his voice every bit the whisper it had been in all his silent greetings. But Harry didn’t want to leave. 

“Severus,” said Harry. “Please,” Harry reached out, to do what, he wasn’t sure, but before the breeze from the motion of his arm could touch the other man, Severus was backing up and leaving the room. 

&&&

It was almost as if Severus had his own version of the Marauders’ Map. Harry had kept to walking down the usual corridor when he realized that Snape had no intention of ever seeing him again, if he could help it,   
coincidence or not. So, Harry had started taking other routes that would get Snape to his classroom as Harry was heading from his. He had waited and searched for him at every possible crossroads and alcove, but Snape had evaded him for days.

It was a testament to how Snape was in his life that it took Harry as long as it did to realize that all those memories were about him. It was just natural. He and Snape were just so deeply embedded into one another’s pasts that it wasn’t odd or strange for their memories to be so intertwined. But his memories were more than familiar, they were intimate. Harry could so easily recall the fond looks Snape threw him when no one else was watching and all the double dealing and care Snape had given him throughout this new stage in his life. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if he were to find out that Snape had done more for him that he had seen in the pensieve. He had been protecting Harry his whole life, but when did he start loving him?

And when did Harry start loving him back? 

When did the wanting to get along as colleagues lead to wanting to know Sn…Severus as a person, and just when had he started to want Severus Snape? 

Harry had to find out. So, he waited. 

He had to go slow, and take enough time to let Severus know that he had given it some real thought, but not too much tie that the other man could possibly believe that he didn’t want him. Then with a little help from Hogwarts, he found himself and Severus in “their” hallway. 

He saw Snape hesitate, but knowing he could turn back without looking ridiculous, Severus forced himself to continue down the hall. He moved to the far side of the corridor, leaving Harry a wide berth, when Harry used those Quidditch reflexes, reached the other side of the corridor, grabbed the other man by the collar of his robes, and kissed Severus Snape soundly on the lips. 

Severus froze for just a moment before lightly kissing Harry back. Harry didn’t stop until they were both panting. Then, with a chuckle and a smile, Harry said, “Hello, Professor,” and finally, loud and clear, Severus Snape replied, “Hello, Harry.”


End file.
